The Heart of War
by Avesolaris
Summary: Because every warrior was once a child. Set in the warring states era. Collection of one-shots of major and minor characters centred around the Uchiha-Senju conflict. Love, hate, discovery and beginnings. Also includes gender bend. Fem!Hashirama, Fem!Madara, and more!
1. Tajima

**Tajima**

It was a hot and stifling summer's evening when Tajima sensed a figure approach the thin sliding doors of his study from a distance away. Years of shinobi training made him subconsciously aware of his surroundings even in the safest place possible in the middle of the Uchiha clan compound.

The doors slid open to reveal Hideki, his nephew and most trusted source of intelligence in the treacherous and war-torn era they were living in. Despite being only twelve years of age, the boy was proving to be a natural both on and off the battlefield.

"Uncle," murmured Hideki respectfully as he made a curt bow and placed a thin envelope on Tajima's desk.

"Thank you for your efforts Hideki. I must imagine the great lengths and effort you went to retrieve this information," Tajima began, giving the boy a slight smile as he pulled out the parchment from the envelope.

Hideki bowed deeply, controlled pride in place. "It was nothing, Uncle. I am merely benefitting from the work of my predecessors."

With his task accomplished, he straightened and closed the sliding door, leaving Tajima staring resolutely at the documents splayed upon his desk, an ostensible frown marring his already lined and weather-worn face.

"Heir of the Senju clan, eh? What an outrage…" he murmured under his breath. _What an opportunity…_

A twisted smile graced his lips as he imagined the pain and sorrow on Senju Butsuma's face, and the damage to the Senju clan's morale to see their clan heir split across the gut, empty and horror-stricken eyes turned up to the sky never to see the light again.

For that was what happened to Kazuhiko.

He would never forget the image of his firstborn burned into the cornea of his eyes – slashed from limb to limb, face and hair a matted and bloody mesh that rendered the body an unidentifiable corpse save for the tattoo carved onto the right arm. Each slash upon the body was like a searing iron that tore through Tajima's heart, leaving it as twisted and mangled as the corpse of his precious son. Soon, he will make the Senju clan pay for this grievous loss. He just didn't anticipate it to be fulfilled through his fourth son, Madara.

* * *

When the day came, and Tajima laid eyes on the Senju heir for the first time, he didn't expect to be taken aback by the boy's chakra. It was immense for such a young child, but most importantly, it was warm, welcoming and _vivacious_. Throbbing with an unseen, effervescent energy that seemed to make one's defenses and worries ebb away with the tide. It was little wonder Madara was so enraptured by this boy – he had the makings of a leader.

He watched as his son's eyes bled into the blazing red of the Sharingan; turbulent chakra swirling dangerously beneath those pools of blood as Madara severed all ties with a friend he so loved, more than he would consciously admit.

It would all be for naught, Hashirama's pleading and promises of hope and peace.

Tajima knew. He knew the true price of carrying the gifted red eyes of Indra. He saw it in the images of Kazuhiko that haunted his waking and dreaming moments, he felt it in the heavy metallic weight of his katana as he sliced through his opponents, he smelled it in the peach blossoms that danced around his wife as she enveloped herself in his arms, their kiss a blazing flame that ignited their souls in unison.

A flame that will consume anything it touches.

And this is why the Uchiha were such a ferocious and indomitable clan that produced shinobi who didn't fear death or hell - For hell couldn't hold a candle to the hellfire and brimstone that scorched the wells of darkness within.

\- End -

* * *

 **End Notes:**

It's a pity that Kishi didn't delve more into the background and politics of the warring states era and that we didn't get to see more of Tajima and Butsuma, who are very interesting characters with great potential to me. The whole setting of Pre-Konoha is based on the Sengoku Jidai period in Japan, which is altogether a fascinating history of social and political turmoil in feudalistic Japan.

Madara is the fourth son, since he mentioned he has four brothers including Izuna, and contrary to popular opinion, I have a head canon of Madara not being the oldest. And true to Asian tradition, the firstborn son is the most treasured and loved by the father to succeed him, and voila! We have Kazuhiko.


	2. Winter Heat

**Winter Heat**

It was during winter that Hashirama first discovered that Madara was undoubtedly an Uchiha.

Not that he didn't have doubts about it before. When he first met Madara that day by the river, it was impossible to note the dark hair, even darker eyes, and distinctively patrician features that were characteristic of the Uchiha.

He remembered thinking how odd it must have been to belong to a clan where members shared such similar physical characteristics. After all, the Senju clan had much more variation amongst its members, with members having white, blonde and darker hair or blue and emerald eyes, a result of many intermarriages with civilian or other shinobi clans. It seemed that the Uchiha were more closed off in this aspect of shinobi life, to produce members that in Hashirama's opinion, were akin to physical clones of each other.

A bright smile lit up his face when he saw Madara emerge from the dark trees on the opposite bank.

"Madara! You've finally come!" he waved excitedly, ignoring the chill that seeped into his limbs despite the warm fur lined coat that his mother draped around his frame before he left the Senju clan compound.

"Hn…a little winter chill is not going to be enough to prevent me from coming out here," Madara greeted in reply as he walked languidly towards Hashirama, dressed in a slim winter navy coat that in Hashirama's opinion, couldn't have protected him much from the cold. His own fur coat would have been much better, and here he was, freezing and clenching his teeth in an open smile to prevent them from chattering.

In fact, Hashirama was so cold he didn't realize that the cold had also somehow seeped into his brain and caused a temporary state of "brain freeze", as he had failed to register that Madara had already crossed the icy frozen river and was standing right in front of him, mere inches away.

Madara scanned him with dark, analytical eyes before placing a warm, _warm_ hand upon his face. Hashirama froze for a second, eyes widening before he relaxed into his friend's palm, deriving much needed comfort from the gesture and releasing a contented sigh.

A smirk played upon Madara's lips. "Tch, look at you, you're freezing and you've even got snot dribbling from your nose!" He said the last part mockingly and in disgust, drawing his hand away.

Hashirama inwardly groaned as the heat left his cheek and heard Madara continue on, the usual fashion police that he was. "And look at your outfit, guess even winter clothing can't cover up your awful inability to dress!"

Hashirama slumped in distress and pouted, "It's not me, it was my mom who picked my outfit!"

"Huh, so it runs in the family I see! Honestly, Hashirama, if – ugghhh!"

Madara was cut off as Hashirama lunged upon him and rubbed his cheek onto Madara's warm one.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU IDIOT?" Madara shouted in protest, "Let go of me!"

"But you're so waaaaaaaaarm Madara, share your heat with me!" Hashirama whined as he continued hugging him, feeling the blessed heat warming up his frozen limbs.

"No, dammit you idiot, you're getting snot all over my face!"

After much kicking and berating, Madara finally let Hashirama snuggle up against him under a tree beside the river, sharing his body heat with him. When it came to such things, Hashirama discovered that Madara was pretty acquiescent with his silly antics and happier to indulge in them than he let up on.

The two lay there in blissful contentment, the heat from Madara warming the both of them up comfortably enough so that they could talk about their hopes and dreams of peace, a village, and how Hashirama's uncle had gotten so pissed drunk last night that his wife saw fit to throw him into a frozen pond of ice to sober him up.

As Madara smiled at Hashirama's animated gestures and mimicking the cries of his aunt, Hashirama couldn't help but think about how his friend was an innate fire element user. And the only innate fire element users that were so physically attuned to it that it coursed through their chakra were the Uchiha.

Hashirama pushed the thoughts out of his mind as Madara threw his head back in an exuberant laugh, onyx eyes alight with mirth and a fiery amusement that melded so well with the warmth that had already enveloped Hashirama's body.

For now, it mattered not who Madara was. All Hashirama knew was that there was a warm, inviting flame, and he was happy and comfortable as he basked in its blazing glow.

\- End-

* * *

 **End Notes:**

I've always thought that it was impossible for both Madara and Hashirama not to know their individual clan's identities, especially when both are trained and intelligent shinobi. In the manga it was also hinted that both of them could guess, as indicated by Hashirama's reaction to Butsuma's revelation.

Since Uchiha are all fire users, it was only natural that their body temperature would most likely have been higher than a regular person's. After all, it's impossible not be if you're a literal fire-breathing dragon!


	3. Matchmaker

**Matchmaker**

There aren't enough Fem!Hashirama stories out there, so I decided to churn one out on my own! This time, it's about Hashirama's planned marriage to the Hyuga! Hehe! I also took the opportunity to write more on the Hyuga's background!

:D Enjoy!

 **Fem!** Hashirama x OC, Senju Butsuma, Hyuga OC

* * *

Hashirama inwardly groaned as the Hyuga clan leader Hyuga Hikaru droned on and on about how honored and happy the Hyuga were to receive such a prominent clan like the Senju.

It grated on her nerves and bored her to endless death, listening to her father and Hikaru exchanging fake pleasantries with lofty words that she only ever heard those fat and pompous Daimyo and their coterie use. Guess that's what the wealthy did to pass the time, invent new and superfluous ways of saying the simplest of things. After all, they didn't have to lift their heavy asses off their comfortable cushions and futons to fight the war they started.

But the Hyuga were no fat asses like the Daimyo, and yet they spewed the exact same court language, carried the same pompous air, moved with the same pampered grace and wore the same luxurious dressing as the land-owning caste. It was no secret that the Hyuga were the wealthiest and most sophisticated of all the shinobi clans, and they were definitely living up to their reputation, Hashirama thought.

From the moment Hashirama stepped into the Hyuga clan compound, she couldn't help but be intrigued and revolted by the stiff luxury, sterility and superficial atmosphere that permeated the entire place.

"The Hyuga are a clan of rules," Butsuma once told her, "tradition is the lifeblood of the Hyuga."

Tradition could be seen in the way the Hyuga are all immaculately dressed, no single hair out of place, no unwanted crease upon their robes, no rowdy or inappropriate behavior. When they moved, they moved with such a dignified and sophisticated grace that if Hashirama were a homelier and more traditional girl, would have greatly envied; for no one carried themselves with such poise as the Hyuga. They were the descendants of Hamura, and a long history of smart alliances and an isolationist policy had enabled the Hyuga to retain their wealth and tradition, unlike the Uchiha and Senju, who warred to poverty.

But tradition bred sterility, and Hashirama had no doubt that the Hyuga would not last long on the battlefield against numerous battle-hardened shinobi clans. This was why they had requested an alliance with the Senju clan. In this era, it was becoming impossible to survive without offering some form of shinobi service, and the Hyuga could no longer stick to their isolationist policy that had served them well for centuries.

Butsuma was quick to take up the alliance, and that was why Hashirama, along with eight other Senju clan members, including Tobirama and some of the Senju Elders were currently sitting in the grandiose meeting room listening to Hyuga Hikaru deliver a rehearsed speech praising the Senju clan.

Hashirama was supportive of the Senju-Hyuga alliance – in the beginning, at least. Despite not being an experienced shinobi clan, the Byakugan would be a huge advantage in reconnaissance missions, close combat, and medical procedures and research. The vast mountains of wealth were also a huge drawing point for Butsuma.

However, Hashirama's attitude towards the alliance changed the moment she discovered the additional means her father planned to secure the Hyuga's loyalty – marriage. And she was the one Butsuma planned to offer in marriage to the Hyuga clan heir and eldest son of Hyuga Hikaru, Hyuga Akihiro.

There was no way in hell Hashirama would give victory to Butsuma in the war against marriage which had plagued relations between them ever since Hashirama turned fifteen. It would mean the end of her freedom as an individual and as a proud and respected shinobi. At the age of sixteen, she had already earned herself a reputation as "Hashirama of the Mokuton", and was one of the strongest shinobi alive alongside Uchiha Madara, who had also earned a fearsome and infamous reputation himself. As much as she hated war, Hashirama enjoyed the adrenaline and challenge in clashing with Madara on the battlefield, and seeing how shinobi across clans would acknowledge and accept her identity as a woman worthy of respect in a male-dominated world.

Hashirama glanced at her intended fiancé, Hyuga Akihiro. He was handsome, but his sophisticated demeanor held no life or promise to her. Like his white eyes, he was sterile and boring, not like the raging fire and blazing passion of Madara's Mangekyou Sharingan. Hashirama could not imagine living life as a docile woman in the Hyuga's gilded cage of opulence and comfort and demeaning herself to perform thankless tasks like housework and giving birth to clan heirs. No, she will live and die on the battlefield, where she was most alive and felt that she could contribute the most to her clan, and to the attainment of peace through an alliance with her enemies, starting with the Uchiha clan.

"No," Hashirama thought, "this marriage shall not pass." She will ensure it does not.

She focused her attention on Butsuma, who had started speaking.

"Thank you for your kind words, Hyuga-san. As you know from our previous correspondences, my daughter is of marriageable age, and has earned a name for herself as a very capable kunoichi. I'm so glad that I have a chance to present her to you," said Butsuma, a politician's smile plastered on his face.

Hyuga Hikaru's lavender eyes slid onto Hashirama's frame. "Indeed, I am honored to have the opportunity to lay eyes on such a renowned and fearsome kunoichi. Although I am most surprised by her appearance. Given her feats, I expected a more imposing and hardened looking fighter, but bless the gods, Butsuma! Your daughter is such a unique beauty; almost like a freshly bloomed peony in the sunlight."

Hashirama bristled at Hikaru's words. She knew she was beautiful – exceptionally so. Her silky brown hair, rose-hued cheeks, doe eyes and willowy figure had gained her much attention from men, both on and off the battlefield. She had seen how shinobi from opposing clans had looked at her, roving eyes full of lust, hatred and greed. On occasion, she would even catch Madara staring at her with barely concealed battlelust and desire, although she blew it off as her imagination. It was insulting to be objectified.

When Hashirama refused to thank Hikaru as was required by social politesse, Butsuma quickly dissipated the awkward silence by thanking Hikaru, "Thank you for your praise, Hyuga-san. With her beauty and remarkable skills, I'm sure my daughter will serve the Hyuga clan well. Please allow me to offer her to you as a gesture of goodwill between our clans."

A smile lit up Hikaru's face as he nodded. Of course this was all planned and agreed on before between the two clan heads in their correspondences. All they needed now was to be in person to sign on the agreement.

"We will be so honored to have such a precious treasure from the Senju clan, and rest assured, Senju-san, your daughter will be much loved and well treated as the next Hyuga clan matriarch," began Hikaru. He briefly exchanged a glance with his son Akihiro, before continuing.

"Hashirama, my dear Senju Princess, we hope to welcome you to the Hyuga clan very soon. But before we do so, we would like to know you more not as a kunoichi and a Senju, but as a beloved daughter-in-law. What do you like to do as your hobby, Hashirama?" Hikaru smiled as he posed the question.

All eyes turned on her, and Hashirama could feel Butsuma's intense stare on her. He had prepped her for this. "If the Hyuga ask you anything, remember – tradition. You must only ever be a gentle and virtuous woman, beautiful in spirit and mind. Nothing less than that for the Hyuga." His words rang in her head, and with a mischievous smirk on her lips, she answered.

"Hyuga-sama, thank you for your kindness and consideration in treating me as family. My favorite hobbies are gambling and swimming in a lake with the boys from my clan!" Hashirama said with a bright smile.

There was a thick and heavy silence as the words left Hashirama's mouth, and Hyuga Hikaru and Akihiro looked as though they were doused with a bucket of ice-cold water. Butsuma looked as though he could snap a kunai in half.

"Gambling and swimming you say?" echoed Hikaru.

"Yes," Hashirama said excitedly, "gambling is a really good way to relieve stress. It can be so awfully stressful to be training all the time for war! And nothing beats a good swim in the lake after training too; you can get so warm and sweaty from that! I'm lucky to have some like-minded companions, all fellow shinobi from my clan who swim along with me! We can spend the entire afternoon doing so, and sometimes, after a swim, we even visit each other's houses to continue training or to stay the night!"

By now, the silence was deafening and there was a palpable tension in the air as Hashirama felt the disapproval and disgust rise like a poisonous cloud from the Hyuga clan. Displeasure marred the patrician features of Hyuga Hikaru and Akihiro as they stared unblinkingly at her, the activation of the Byakugan threatening to rise to the surface.

But what pleased Hashirama the most was the look of incredulity and horror on Butsuma's face. With what Hashirama just said about swimming with other boys and staying at their homes, it was painfully obvious that Hashirama was no virgin. Butsuma was not only blindfolded about his daughter's sexual awakening, he now was unable to offer a pure, lily-white flower to the Hyuga's liking.

Butsuma, the composed and seasoned shinobi he always was, cleared his throat, and said in an embarrassed tone, "Hyuga-san, please don't take what Hashirama said to heart. She's just a lively child, and it is common for Senju shinobi to take a swim together with our clothing on. It serves both as leisure and training for survival and underwater breathing."

But the Hyuga were learned enough in the art of politics and sweet-talking to spot a lie any day.

"I see," Hikaru said, barely concealing his distaste, "but Senju-san, the Hyuga are a clan of tradition. We cannot be seen by others to have a clan matriarch who gambles and who cavorts around with men other than her husband!"

"We assure you Hashirama is not the kind of girl who will bring dishonor to your clan!" Butsuma protested, and he turned sharply to Hashirama. "Hashirama, pour some tea for your future father-in-law as an apology for your uncouth words!"

Hashirama did as she was told, acting the part of the obedient and "apologetic" daughter. As she lifted herself up to hand the steaming cup of tea to Hikaru, she "accidentally" tripped on her long kimono robe, and was sent crashing onto Hikaru; the cup of tea emptied all over Hikaru's face and burning his skin.

There was a frenzy and flurry of shinobi from both sides scrambling to help Hikaru up as he cried out in pain and anger from the burns on his face. He swatted Butsuma's hand away and glared poisonously at Hashirama.

"Outrageous! Butsuma! Such a chaotic and uncivilized harlot has no place in the Hyuga clan! The marriage is out of the question!""

And with that, the prospect of a marriage alliance between the Senju and Hyuga was a relic of the past, an embarrassing moment to be forgotten. But the Senju still managed to secure an alliance with the Hyuga by agreeing to offer them support and protection, as well as the provision of 5 grain and rice fields. Hashirama was more than happy to grow the grain and rice fields as a way of apology for her disrespect to the Hyuga clan head.

As for the excruciatingly painful beatings and cut in food rations from Butsuma that Hashirama had to endure for two weeks after the Hyuga incident, she saw it as a small price to pay for her continued freedom as a woman and a kunoichi.

* * *

Hehe, the Hyuga clan were not fleshed out during the warring states era, so I did it for Kishi! :P

Reviews are always welcome!


	4. Hair Like Snow

**Hair Like Snow**

A one shot on Hashirama and Tobirama's mother. Tobirama and Itama had to get their white hair gene from somewhere. It's also my attempt to imagine how Tobirama grew to be such a perceptive, reserved and seemingly emotionally unavailable person. A few elements of Asian mythology thrown in.

Hashirama, Tobirama, Pre-Konoha OC

* * *

Of all the Senju brothers, none knew their mother better than Tobirama.

Akane Senju was the matriarch of the proud Senju clan. Aside from the Yuki clan in the northern mountains, she was the only non Yuki clan shinobi who could expertly combine wind and water elements to form her own ice release techniques, thus earning her the nickname of the "Snow Maiden" on the battlefield.

Out of the battlefield, to her four sons, she was a loving and stringent mother. To the Senju clan, she was their most respected but enigmatic first lady. To her husband, she was his most trusted advisor and companion. But to Tobirama, she was a haunted and lost soul.

Just like the Hyouton techniques she wielded, Akane had a cool and detached demeanor about her, amplified by her icy appearance. She had snow-white hair, fair skin, and ruby red eyes that lent her an ethereal beauty.

Since he was born, Tobirama remembers how despite being held in his mother's warm embrace, she felt cold and apart, just like how her otherworldly beauty was distinctly separate from the fertile, earthy grounds which the Senju commanded as their own.

"Mother, where are you from?" he asks one day, as he sits idly watching her fill in an order for kunai.

She stops midway through a stroke, ruby eyes settling on her son and betraying a look of surprise. Despite no one having told Tobirama, the innate sensor that he was, he had figured his mother was not originally from the Senju clan based on her chakra signature.

"From the northern mountains of Asahikawa. It's mostly winter and snow where I was born throughout the year, so we always had a fur collar to keep us warm during the unbearably harsh winters," replied Akane, reminiscence and a tinge of sorrow dancing like snowflakes across the tundra of her monotone voice.

She pointed to a silvery-white fur collar she always kept in her drawer, but Tobirama didn't think too much about it until that spring day in February.

* * *

Tobirama felt sick. And it was all thanks to the sight of a wiry man, a butcher of sorts, who was busy skinning a couple of foxes that hung limply from the bamboo pole.

Despite being seasoned in war at such a tender age, and being accustomed to the stench of blood, he was still a stranger to the cloying smell of decomposition. Those foxes must have been dead for a couple of days, and he hadn't expected this when he accompanied Akane under civilian disguise to the nearby civilian town to get some medical supplies.

He looks up at Akane, nose scrunched up in disgust and hoping to ask to leave soon, and was muted into silence by what he saw.

Senju Akane was staring at the butcher skinning the foxes, her usually blank and composed face a flurry of emotions: Rage, sorrow, despair and something else Tobirama couldn't quite place.

"Mother…?"

Senju Akane's eyes slid from the butcher to him, and fear pierced his heart as for a fleeting moment, he _felt_ and saw, a murderous look settle upon him from the woman who had given him life. But it was gone as soon as it had come.

"Tobi, do you want me to tell you a story?"

A cold, soft hand caressed his silvery white hair as Akane led him out of the civilian town.

Akane recounts a story of how a wandering shinobi came across a butcher who was about to skin two arctic foxes he had caught in the forests along the border. The shinobi was startled by the unique coats of the foxes. One was silvery white, and the other pure white and spotless as snow.

From what he could tell, the silvery white one was dead whilst the white one was flailing around helplessly, letting out pitiful mewls and cries of help. It was obvious the butcher was going to skin both foxes, and he was about to kill the white fox when the shinobi quickly ordered him to stop.

"Please sir, spare the poor fox! She's such a lovely creature, it would be a pity to kill such a beautiful thing. I'll pay you 50 tokens for her and another 50 for her partner," pleaded the shinobi.

The butcher, pleasantly surprised by the generous offer, agreed and passed both foxes to the shinobi.

The shinobi carried the white fox home, all the while trying his best to soothe her and calm her down, and was surprised to see her shed pearl-like tears as she eyed the bag containing the dead silver-white fox.

Little did he know that the foxes were fox spirits who were greatly weakened by a fearsome battle that left them unable to retain their human form, resulting in the butcher mistaking them for mere arctic foxes he could profit from in the lucrative fur trade. It was only after a few days of nursing that the white fox regained her human form and married the shinobi out of gratitude, promising to bring him and his clan prosperity for his kindness to her.

* * *

Tobirama was only eight years old when he saw his mother die before his eyes.

Senju Akane had been severely wounded in battle and lay on the futon, the light from her eyes slowly dimming as her sons curled up beside her, crying in denial of the inevitable.

Her long white hair was loosened from its usual ponytail, and the Senju brothers clung to the snow-white strands, wrapping themselves up in them, hoping that their mother's hair will continue to protect them from the fury and cruelty of battle and the coarse, rough training of the Senju warriors.

Tobirama feels his mother stroke his cheek; he was her favorite amongst all her four sons. He looks up at her, and sees that her eyes settle upon the silver-white fur collar on her dressing table.

"I'll finally get to see him again. Tobi. I'm so happy, I'm finally free," she whispered.

It was as though someone had wrenched a sword through Tobirama's heart when he realized the truth of his mother's identity.

He barely heard Kawarama's wails when their mother drew her final breath and lay still forever. All he felt was the ice and snow of his mother's hair around him as he wondered if his father was both the shinobi _and_ the butcher.

It was as though something had possessed him as he detached himself from his mother's side and grabbed the fur collar from the dressing table. It was soft, strong, and most importantly, _warm_. Warmer than the snow-white veil of his mother's hair upon him.

Since then, Tobirama kept the fur collar at his side at all times, even wearing it to battle, as a reminder of his mother's admirable determination and ferocity in life, and _maybe_ , just maybe… to satisfy that small selfish part of him that desperately wanted such a passionate and genuine love that transcended lifetimes.

-End-

* * *

 **End Notes:**

The name of Akane for Tobirama and Hashirama's mother is inspired by work I saw on Deviantart. You can just google "Akane Senju" and she will turn up!

In it, she is depicted as a she-wolf of sorts, but I decided to take a different spin to it and made her a fox spirit. This is because when I was young, I've read stories of men saving animal spirits from certain death, unaware of their true identities as powerful spirits, and in return, they took on human form to repay their debt to their human saviors.

However, during wartimes in history where women were seen as valuable "breeding livestock" and spoils of war, it was not unusual for victors to massacre an entire clan or village and take beautiful women as wives and concubines. Not that I'm trying to demonize Butsuma, but I wanted to accurately portray the violence and cruelty in those times, especially for women - also the duality of (forced) love and hatred.

I also refuse to believe the Senju clan was as innocent and full of good intentions as Kishi likes to paint them.

 **Thank you!**

Special thanks to all my reviewers so far, especially to satiny-angle for your insightful comments! It's great to know there is a Pre-Konoha fan out there! :) You all make me so happy! :D


	5. Perfume

**Perfume**

A chapter dedicated to an unexplored Senju clan member. I'd always imagined her to be the Senju Warrior Princess or Zena of her time! :P

Senju Toka, OC Characters

* * *

Ever since Toka was born, she was a strange anomaly amongst the Senju clan. While all babies arrived into the world with the stench of blood and amniotic fluid, all present at Toka's birth were surprised to be greeted by a strong waft of the most fragrant and floral scent.

Toka was born with a natural fragrance. She was a child of perfume.

It was an inconvenient trait to have. Because of how unheard it was to be born with a natural body fragrance, she was treated like an exhibit. Everyone in the Senju clan and beyond wanted to catch a whiff of this exquisite peach flower. It was precisely because of this that everyone treated her like a delicate treasure to be protected and pampered, even though the harshness of those times dictated she be brought up as a kunoichi, and the heiress of one of the most powerful shinobi clans in the world. Butsuma, her uncle, despite being clan head, was childless at the time of her birth.

Being clan heiress meant tough, back-breaking and sometimes fatal training. This was all well and good for Toka, who believed strength and cunning were essential for survival, and she shone as a kunoichi in her taijutsu, ninjutsu and most notably, her genjutsu. At the mere age of seven, she was already concocting her own set of ingenious and brutally efficient ninjutsu and genjutsu techniques.

However, there was one downside of being a human perfume in the world of shinobi.

"I don't understand," Toka whispered as she stared defiantly up at her uncle, emerald eyes bright with unshed tears, "you couldn't have avoided that, no matter how fast you are."

She had attempted to take hold of Butsuma's neck in a stranglehold from his blind spot with her shunshin no jutsu. Theoretically, it would have been too fast for Butsuma to defend himself, and he wouldn't have noticed her coming until she was too close due to the blind spot.

Butsuma stared down at his niece, a frown marring his features and his lips were set in a grim line.

"It is because of your scent. It seems to become stronger the more you move and perspire."

He breathed in, taking a strong whiff of her.

" _I_ _ **smelled**_ _you way before you used that attack."_

A heavy silence passed between Butsuma and Toka, but both knew the unsaid.

 _The swiftest and most cunning techniques are useless when your enemies can smell you from meters away._

"Go help Ayame tomorrow. She's currently having trouble coming up with the antidote to the Hagoromo's newest poison."

With that, Butsuma turned on his heel to leave.

"No I won't!" protested Toka as she stood up defiantly.

"You promised me Uncle! You promised me that I have proven myself a capable kunoichi and am ready to serve the Senju clan on the battlefield tomorrow!"

Toka's mind was a seething cauldron of red.

"No, Toka! There is no way you can win, not with _that_."

"That's a lie! I'll prove you wrong, I'll -"

A harsh sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberated through the compound as Butsuma slapped Toka hard on her face, and she stumbled, mute, onto the ground.

"My final say is the only thing that counts here," Butsuma said, the threat evident in his voice.

That was one of the most horrid and painful moments of Toka's life. To be denied a chance to prove herself, to validate her abilities, her hard years of work and training, all because of something she can't control. Because she was born with _it_.

At that moment, the aromatic smell of lakes and flowers that intoxicated even the most hardened shinobi became a pungent smell of hatred and self-loathing.

* * *

If there was one thing Toka didn't do, it was giving up.

She didn't stop until she found a way to rid herself of her natural fragrance and convince Butsuma to let her join the Senju warriors. And find it she did.

It was just that she found it in the most fortuitous way ever.

* * *

Toka could barely contain her glee as Takeshi, the head-hunter of the Senju clan, draped a beautiful deerskin coat around her.

"It's beautiful, thank you Takeshi-san!"

Her hands roved around the coat, admiring the white spots against the brown velvet of the leather.

"It must have been quite a challenge, Takeshi-san. The deer of the Nara clan are highly intelligent creatures and can smell you even from miles away," smiled Tsubaki, Toka's mother.

Takeshi leaned back and let out a gruff laugh and slapped his knee.

"HAHAHAHA! Tsubaki-san, even though you're one of the most brilliant and talented warriors of the Senju clan, you'll make such a hopeless huntress!"

He ignored the annoyed look Tsubaki sent his way and continued.

"Animals do indeed have a much heightened sense of sound and smell compared to humans; it's how they survive. As a hunter, if you don't know how to overcome this defense mechanism, there's no way you can take the prey down."

At the word "smell", Toka straightened up a little bit and listened intently.

"Sound is easier to control than smell, for one thing. Amateur hunters often underestimate the power of scent, but that is because humans can't smell their own scent or others, of course, unless they have a princess from the Heavens who smells like a garden of flowers," said Takeshi as he winked at Toka.

"There are two ways to hide one's scent. First is to take on the scent of the prey, its natural surroundings, or things they deem harmless."

Takeshi picks up his water canteen and empties its contents onto the ground, and Toka watches as mud begins to form and pool at his feet.

"Second is to rid yourself of any odor. No scent, nothing. Your prey will think of you as the mere air they breathe in."

Takeshi grabs a handful of the mud and lathers it on his free hand.

"Mud fulfills both criteria. It is a scent the deer are used to and are therefore desensitized to. It also masks your natural body odor, so to the deer, it will be as if your body odor never existed in the first place."

Takeshi pulls out a shiny silver arrow and flicks it towards the pool of mud, and Toka barely sees it as it lands right in the middle of the brown slick.

 _And that is how you take out your prey._

 _That is how I will mask my scent._

 _That is how I will earn the right to fight on the battlefield._

All Toka sees is a kunai, lodged in a ruby red sea of blood as she stares at the mud pool on the ground.

She barely hears it when Takeshi smiles brilliantly at her, and wishes her a "Happy Birthday."

Toka offers a bright smile of her own, "Thank you Takeshi-san. I will treasure your present."

 _It is the best present I could ever have._

* * *

It was a hot and sultry afternoon during summer as the flags with the Hagoromo and Senju clan symbols flew proudly in the wind.

"GYARRRHHHH -"

A Hagoromo shinobi released his last shout on earth as Toka mercilessly sliced his throat with a clean swipe of her katana, her bright emerald green eyes resting on her next target, another shinobi who was heading towards her at breakneck speed.

Before the fallen shinobi could hit the ground, Toka found the bright blade of the new shinobi mere centimeters from her face, and she countered swiftly with a parry of her own.

She locked eyes with her opponent, a brute of a man with a scar running down his face.

She immediately released her pressure upon her blades and leapt back, causing the shinobi to stumble forwards a little from the loss of opposing force upon his katana.

Drawing out three kunai from her back pocket, Toka threw them at him, a smirk forming on her lips as she performed the seals of her genjutsu and shunshin-ed behind him, right behind his blind spot.

 _This is it._

The shinobi raised his katana to block the oncoming kunai.

Toka smiled as the genjutsu took hold of the shinobi, whose attention was so focused on the oncoming kunai whizzing towards him he could not pick up on it.

It was simple, really. Humans breathe. Humans need air. And what better way to transmit a genjutsu than through air? Even the Uchiha's genjutsu techniques required visual connection, but hers didn't. All you needed to do to fall prey to her was to breathe.

 _You are my prey._

The shinobi barely had time to turn around when Toka brought the blade down upon his nape, the blinding silver cleaving the vulnerable flesh in two as the shinobi's lifeblood left him and splattered onto Toka's grinning face.

* * *

A slight smile worked its way onto Toka's lips as she brushed her hair in the mirror.

In the two years since she was allowed onto the battlefield, she had earned herself a fearsome reputation as a kunoichi at the mere age of eleven.

She had heard whispers, of an airborne jutsu that could control your mind and senses, and she chuckled to herself as she recalled the fear and hushed voices of the civilians who lined the streets of the town nearby.

Where once people used to smell a delicate, fragrant scent of flowers, now they smelled death and fear. Even now some Senju clan members would consciously hold their breaths in as they strolled past her in the compound, afraid of smelling death and destruction up close.

She was beautiful, and she was deadly.

She was the scent you couldn't live without yet wanted to avoid so badly, an intoxicating perfume that clawed mercilessly at your senses.

She knew this.

And life couldn't be any sweeter.

-End-

* * *

 **End Notes:**

I've always been fascinated by minor characters like Toka. We know that she was one of Hashirama's closed and most trusted associates, and for her to be a kunoichi in a world dominated by men and faced with legendary genjutsu users like Madara and Izuna, she must have been one badass mofo.

Inspiration for her natural body fragrance is from the legendary Uyghur concubine of a Qing dynasty emperor, who is said to possess a natural body fragrance and was hence named "Concubine Fragrance" in the Imperial Court. And since Toka literally means "peach flower" in Japanese, I couldn't help but let my imagination go wild. :P


	6. Puppetmaster

**Puppetmaster**

Characters: Dark!Uchiha Izuna, Innocent!Uchiha Madara.

* * *

Years later, people would always remember the name of "Uchiha Madara" – the powerful leader of the Uchiha who could destroy a single army with his feared Mangekyo Sharingan and katon that dyed many a battlefield red with the blood of his enemies. But no one would remember the name of his brother, Uchiha Izuna, and a good thing too. Because that was how Izuna wanted it.

The best puppetmaster is the one who is concealed in shadow, never to reveal his true identity. For only then can he control every pull and tug of his strings, and no one, not even his puppets would suspect anything. Izuna was such a puppetmaster.

He didn't know when he became one, but maybe it had to do with the fact that he was the youngest and therefore the most unseen amongst his brothers. Every day he watched as his older brothers trained, as Tajima praised Madara for being a genius and telling him to "train hard, so you will become an excellent shinobi like your brother Madara."

And Izuna put in every single drop of blood and energy into his training, spurred on by Tajima's words. A challenge. A promise. A resentment.

Perhaps that's how it all started. Negligent fathers and rivaling sons who vied for their fathers' love and praise. Tajima was no better a father than Hagoromo, and generations later, Fugaku would be no better than his predecessors either.

Yes, Izuna loved his family and Madara dearly. But his love was not simple. Whatever void Tajima's negligence bore into his heart, he filled with a love that was meant to control, to subvert the powerlessness thrust upon him as the _younger brother_.

Izuna loves Madara, and he made damn well sure that Madara loved him back.

Be it combing Madara's hair, tending to his every need, dressing his wounds or cleaning his armour, Izuna was an indispensible part of Madara's life. His only pillar of strength and support in the hell that was war and bloodshed.

Wherever Madara went, Izuna followed, always one step behind. Whenever Madara fought his battles upon the burning fields of war or the cold Council room, all eyes were upon him, rooted. For Madara was a blazing flame of power and glory, a legend that would surpass time itself.

So it is a little-known surprise that Izuna was the first one to awaken the Mangekyo Sharingan. Whilst Madara was busy planning battles and obsessing over that tree-loving idiot Senju, Izuna diligently studied the old clan records and discovered the secret to divine powers that would make even the great Senju clan tremble in absolute fear.

While people looked to Madara for guidance, they looked to Izuna for comfort. After all, Izuna was always gentle, polite and friendly to his fellow clan members, sometimes even teasing his aunts and taking time off to play-train with his young cousins and clan members. Because of this, Izuna was always seen as a harmonic and peace-loving person, except for the times he transformed into a demon on the battlefield.

Thus as time went by, and some Uchiha clan members were getting weary of the war and were contemplating peace, Izuna, the heartline of the clan, was the first to detect the seeds of surrender in the Uchiha clan.

If there was something the Uchiha puppetmaster was in distaste of, it was the Uchiha clan capitulating to that fool Senju Hashirama's constant pleas of peace through ceasefire treaties and preaching of "brotherhood".

The only brotherhood to be achieved with the enemy was one where he plays a melody with their strings as he sent them to a pit of fire and brimstone.

"The Senju and Uchiha are like oil and water," he keeps telling Madara, "don't listen to them."

Madara could be such an emotionally driven idiot sometimes, making him no different from that Senju Hashirama. Maybe that was why they were friends in the first place. But Izuna knew better.

 **War is peace. Peace is war.**

He could see it, if the Uchiha and Senju ever signed a peace agreement. The Senju will try to subjugate them through covert means, never on the battlefield or on the negotiating table. Izuna knew, he has seen and even been part of the bloodied hands that traded deals underneath the table and behind closed doors. That was how he disposed of his cousin so that Madara could become leader, and no one, not even Madara, was any the wiser.

Peace with the enemy was war behind closed doors and in between the sheets, not on the open battlefield where truth was reality. The war would just be closer to home, closer to the heart. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

That fateful day, he saw Tobirama coming. He knew that white haired dog was up to something – he had planted spies in the Senju compound and gathered intel on a space-dimension technique Tobirama had been working on, and he was prepared.

One slice was all it took.

" _No, brother…Don't let his pretty words deceive you…"_

One breath, one movement of the puppetmaster's finger was all it took for Madara to throw that smoke bomb and eradicate any possibility of a peace treaty with the Senju.

And even if the Uchiha signed a peace treaty with the Senju in the end, it wouldn't matter. For Izuna had already fashioned his puppet so much to his liking that he didn't need any more strings to control him anymore. His puppet was an extension of his will now.

So when he gave up his eyes, and darkness fell upon him forever, he could not have been any happier.

 _Nii-san, you will see things from my point of view everyday from now on. We are one, and we'll never be torn apart._

* * *

 **End Notes:**

I think there is a popular opinion of Izuna as the more gentle, passive, and peace-loving brother compared to Madara. But I beg to differ. From what we've seen of his character, he seems very anti-peace. Or rather, his idea of peace is not an alliance with his enemies, but a total eradication of them.

And I've always had a head canon of him being the manipulative brother who is best at putting up appearances. So yeah, Asshole!Izuna.

I took some liberty to play with the similarities and differences between the brotherhood of Izuna and Madara and that of Sasuke and Itachi. The Cain-Abel complex taken with a different twist.


	7. Tanabata Festival

There is one day every year when Hashirama and Madara strip off their armor and write wishes together.

 **Characters** : Hashirama, Madara

* * *

 **Tanabata Festival, Kyoto**

It was hot – unbearably hot, and Hashirama couldn't stop fanning himself through the thin fabric of his green yukata. It didn't help that there were hundreds of people gathered in the market square, their mingling body heat leaving Hashirama near breathless and wishing he could just run out to the nearby stream and dunk himself there.

It was a fantastic idea, really, thought Hashirama, as his eyes roved around the square, drinking in the colorful lanterns and brightly colored strips of paper that hung from the swinging bamboo trees.

Hashirama grinned, excited and it was as though he was a seven-year-old child all over again, winding through the playground where the gods had taken pots of paint and drizzled it over the square and creating a dazzling world of rainbows, gold and glitter.

The only regret he had was that Tobirama wasn't there to enjoy it with him. Tobirama, in typical fashion, had excused himself for some drinks and shade at a teahouse when the summer heat had become too unbearable and he had enough of Hashirama bouncing about like an overgrown five-year-old kid.

From the corner of his eye, Hashirama caught sight of some makeshift stalls with bright drapes and striped cloths, and the crowd of young men and children there was a dead giveaway that the area was the games section of the square.

Excited and blood pulsing, Hashirama squirmed eagerly past the crowd and reached the first game stall he chanced upon – apple bobbing.

He watched as hopeful participants dunked their heads into the water and attempted to grab onto an apple with their teeth, wetting their hair and even hilariously bumping their heads against their competitors in their mad rush to get the first apple.

 ** _Oh he was so on for this game._** He'd never tried apple bobbing before, but he was going to find out and have a great time doing it.

"Sir, how much for a round?" asked Hashirama.

"2 copper coins per round, young man," replied the games master, a short, stout and middle-aged man with the funniest and curliest moustache Hashirama had ever seen.

Reaching into his pocket, Hashirama dropped 2 copper coins into the games master's hand and stepped eagerly in front of the water barrel, watching the apples bob leisurely in the current the previous players had left behind.

Taking a huge breath, Hashirama dipped his head and felt the cold water splash against his face as he opened his mouth and bit hard.

 ** _Crunch._**

Elated and amazed, Hashirama straightened up with the prize apple in his mouth and looked up to see a very familiar face staring back at him.

It was the Uchiha Madara, his most fearsome rival on the battlefield, dressed in a casual royal blue yukata and looking at him like he was some kind of childish freak.

 _"Mmmmhmmm!"_ Gurgled Hashirama through the apple and he pointed excitedly at Madara, all the while ignoring the sharp and offended gaze Madara was throwing at him.

* * *

If there was one thing Madara didn't expect to see at the Tanabata festival, it was Hashirama, dressed in an emerald green yukata, hair matted wet from apple bobbing, and bearing a look of utter surprise and childlike excitement as he held the prize apple in between his teeth.

It was a sight Madara had not been used to for years.

Since that fateful day when he awakened his Sharingan, all that Madara saw of Hashirama was on the battlefield or at negotiation tables, donned in heavy metal armour and carrying some lethal weapon or crying out the name of some obscure jutsu that was meant to hurt and kill.

A far cry from the Hashirama that was staring back at him now, looking like a chipmunk with an apple stuck in its mouth.

"Mmmmhmmm!" came Hashirama's struggling voice through the apple, and he pointed at Madara, and **_gods, did he look like an absolutely uncultured idiot doing that. Did the Senju not teach him proper manners?_**

Madara had to bite back a laughter that threatened to bubble up in his throat, and instead schooled his face into one of pure irritation and offense at the rude gesture.

Honestly speaking, Madara didn't expect himself to actually find Hashirama **funny** , much less Hashirama looking like a chipmunk with an apple in his mouth. And seeing him point at him without any ill intent with the manners of a country bumpkin, Madara's entire instincts were thrown into confusion.

His warrior instincts were telling him to be on guard and despite not bearing any weapons, Madara was already subconsciously scanning the area for convenient items that could be transformed into ready weapons to kill and destroy at a moment's notice.

 ** _What was he to do now? Place a genjutsu on Hashirama while the God of Shinobi was staring stupidly at him or just walk away and pretend he never saw him?_**

Thankfully, the games master intervened, his calm voice piercing through Madara's monologue of thoughts, "It seems that this young man is in need of a fellow player and competitor, Sir. Would you kindly join in a few rounds of apple bobbing with him?"

Madara turned to glance at the games master, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Hashirama remove the apple and beaming with joy.

Before he could say anything, Hashirama cut in eagerly, "Yes, please do! Old man, you really can read minds, don't ya? You knew I wanted him to play with me!"

And Madara had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and curse his luck when Hashirama smiled at him with an all too dazzling and bright smile.

"2 copper coins please, sir."

Sighing in resignation, Madara reached into his pocket and passed over 2 copper coins onto the games master's outstretched plump hands.

Guess he had no choice but to partake in a childish game with the God of Shinobi…with apples no less. Madara hated apples.

He internally shrugged. It was better than engaging Hashirama in a real fight in the middle of a public square, and at the Tanabata Festival no less.

 **"Ready? 1…2…3...GO!"** and the games master blew on his whistle.

Hashirama and Madara immediately dunked their heads into the water barrel, and Madara ignored the sting of cold water as he searched through the water for any available apples that were around him or beneath him.

Unfortunately, he felt Hashirama lift his head up, and groaned as he straightened up to see Hashirama's impish eyes staring back at him as he held another apple in his mouth.

 **Dammit. This is like rock skipping all over again** , thought Madara grumpily.

After a four more rounds of getting his hair wet and biting unsuccessfully at apples that continuously bobbed away from him, it was obvious to all that Madara was not a master of apple bobbing.

"We have a winner!" announced the games master proudly, as he presented Hashirama with some strips of colorful wish paper and a bag of sweets, "Please enjoy your prize sir and congratulations for being a King at apple bobbing!"

Hashirama laughed awkwardly as he scratched his head, shy of the praise the games master just heaped upon him. He thanked the games master politely and turned to see Madara glaring at him with barely veiled dislike and resentment at having lost…again.

He watched as Madara turned on his heel and stalked off, and Hashirama quickly gave chase, crying out after him to stop. He knew just how prideful Madara was, and if given a chance, he would choose to be a worse bobber than he was but then if he had purposely lost to Madara, Madara would have been mad as hell and that just **wouldn't** do. The Uchiha had developed a keen sense of when Hashirama was taking their battles seriously, and even a simple game like this was no exception.

"Madara, wait! Please!" he yelled, as he struggled to push past the crowd that always seemed to grow bigger and bigger.

Finally, after pushing unceremoniously past a middle-aged woman, Hashirama's hand finally came to rest upon Madara's shoulder and Hashirama almost got a heart attack as the Uchiha leader spun round to face him with a murderous glare, and it took all of Hashirama's shinobi training to not squeak and fall back in surprise at the scary sight of an angry Madara.

"What is it, _**Senju?**_ " growled Madara lowly.

"I…I just wanted to let you have the first wish," mumbled Hashirama sheepishly, as he extended the wish paper towards him as a peace offering between them.

A look of surprise and wonder crossed Madara's face, but it was gone as soon as it came. Instead, Madara rose a critical brow and his trademark smirk was back in place once again.

"Oh? Why so generous today Hashirama? Don't you know that we're enemies? And stop trying to be condescending towards me by giving me this show of pity!"

As he hissed the final sentence out, Hashirama's face caved in and his shoulders sagged, and Hashirama looked like a child being reprimanded for something he had done wrong.

"I'm not being condescending, Madara. I really wanted to thank you for agreeing to play apple bobbing with me when there weren't anyone else around."

"Only because you **forced** me to."

"Yes, but you could have chosen not to!" said Hashirama, smiling, and then it hit Madara.

 ** _Yes, he could have chosen to refuse the games master's request but he didn't._**

He didn't want to admit it, but he knew he couldn't refuse after seeing Hashirama so joyful and happy to see him and engage with him in anything other than battle – and that humorous look on his face with an apple in his mouth was something Madara guessed he found oddly endearing.

Hashirama's grin only grew wider, knowing he had hit a spot with Madara. He extended the wish paper out, gesturing for Madara to take one.

"Here, please have one! I think you should be the first to write your wishes for the company you gave me and for being such a sporting rival," Hashirama offered warmly.

Madara hesitated for a second, before his hands moved and he found himself taking one piece of bright green paper from Hashirama's tanned hands.

Hashirama beamed at him, a look of elation all over his face as he pointed towards the nearest bamboo tree to them, "Look, there's one bamboo tree! Let's write our wishes there!"

Sure enough, just a few feet away was a willowy bamboo tree, its branches swaying heavily in the wind as it bore dozens of stringed colorful paper with the intricate brush strokes many had written their most intimate wishes upon. As the Hashirama and Madara approached the tree, they saw a stall beside it with muli-colored paper on display and some inkpads and brushes.

Nodding in silent agreement with the stall owner, Madara took hold of one of the ink brushes and inundated it onto the inkpad and watched as the black ink flowed and dyed the brush a midnight black. Lifting up the brush, Madara expertly placed it to his wish paper and within a few quick brush strokes, he was done and set the brush gently on the ink pad.

Hashirama leaned in, and widened his eyes upon seeing Madara's wish.

 **"Peace for all."**

Grinning, Hashirama said, "My turn!" and made to grab the brush and write his Tanabata wish onto his wish paper.

 **"And happiness surround."**

He felt Madara snort beside him, but didn't miss the faint smile that tugged upon the Uchiha leader's lips from the faint corner of his eye.

"Shall we?" he grinned, holding up his own wish paper.

Madara didn't say anything in response but merely nodded with a "Hn" in typical Uchiha fashion and lifted his wish paper towards the willowy bamboo tree in front of them.

With a few knots, the two clan leaders stood back and watched in silent pride as their two wish papers dangled lazily from the tree, bound by red thread and swinging happily in the wind.

 ** _Peace for all and happiness surround._**

The summer wind blew, and Hashirama turned his face slightly to see Madara smiling at him – a soft, content, and gentle one, before turning away and walking off into the distance, signaling the end of their fated and momentary meeting.

And Hashirama smiled back, his tanabata wish coming true for the first time in a long time.

* * *

 **End Notes:**

It was V day when I first thought about this and felt a light-hearted chapter without any war scenes in it would be perfect! Even though Tanabata celebrates the reunion of two star-crossed lovers, I thought it was so appropriate for the two enemy clan heads of the Senju and Uchiha to "make peace" and reunite for just one day on this very special occasion.

 _ **Make love, not war.**_

Please rate and review! :D


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